


Secrets of Sand

by McSquishee



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ishbalan | Ishvalan, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Ishbal | Ishval, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Alphonse Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Edward Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Trisha Elric, Ishval Civil War, Mustang's Team, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:39:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McSquishee/pseuds/McSquishee
Summary: Roy didn't miss the way Ed flinched with every snap of his fingers, he didn't miss the soft spot he held for Ishvalan children, and he didn't miss the way he fidgeted when ever someone spoke about the war. What could these kids be hiding from him, and why does Roy get the feeling he doesn't want to know? Ishvalan!EdAl - Ishvalan!AU
Relationships: Trisha Elric/Van Hohenheim
Comments: 6
Kudos: 278





	Secrets of Sand

Tzira Alrich was born with hair as white as the sand around her and eyes as red as the desert blood coursing through her veins. She was the first and only daughter of Jebal and Khali Alrich, and sister to 3 older brothers, Harim, Abel, and Jorah. She took pride in the desert tongue she grew up speaking and she relished in the traditions and customs of her homeland. She was the perfect daughter of the sand, so why did she long for something she knew forbidden?

She tried to ignore the man with the long blonde hair, much warmer than the stark white strands she bore, and the way he made her feel, but she couldn't help but feel a spark every time she saw him perform the rearrangement of matter known as alchemy, which was forbidden by Ishvala. Tzira began to watch the man through cracks in doors whenever he visited her home town, finding so much joy in the crackles of blue lightning lighting up the dark of night. She couldn't help but wonder how something so beautiful could possibly be evil.

Tzira eventually grew tired of watching from the sidelines and began to engage in conversations with the man, inquiring about alchemy and about the ways of the world around her that she had never seen. Her parents would scold her and beg her to stay away from the man they dubbed 'the sinner', but Tzira was always so happy with him, she couldn't bear to leave him behind.

Then the war came. Tensions steadily rose between Ishval and the rest of Amestris, and while her family stayed behind and prayed, she begged the man named Hohenheim to take her with him out of her small village. She didn't want to die along with her heritage, she wanted to see the world and learn about all of the things she never knew she never knew. Tzira refused to lay down and die in some meaningless war.

So they left that night, leaving behind her family and the beginnings of her life, leaving with her arm locked together with 'the sinner', and she had no regrets.

They lived and loved in a small town called Resembool, where Tzira could hide her roots in plain sight. When the soldiers came through, the neighbours knew nothing of the white haired maiden next door, and Tzira was forever grateful for their kindness.

It wasn't long before she had children with the same man her family hated so much, who she loved undeniably. Her first son, born with hair light enough to be recognized by Ishvalan brothers and sisters, but with a gold enough hue to be able to pass it off as blonde. His skin, deep enough to be known as his mother's son, but pale enough to be seen as a suntan. And his eyes, his beautiful golden eyes just as brilliant as his father's, would crush any soldier's suspicion of his Ishvalan blood, his eyes, which Tzira was so grateful for. Her heart ached for her son not able to wear his roots proudly, but was relieved that she knew he would be safe from the blood-stained hands of the military. He was known as Edward Elric by the rest, but known as Esdarho Alrich in the confines of his home.

Her next son was born with hair a tad lighter than Esdarho's and skin a shade warmer. But when he cracked open his eyes, Tzira was met with the ruby-red irises much like her own. She loved them and thought them beautiful, but she knew that they would be a death sentence in the outside world. Her son, called by many by the name Alphonse Elric, and in her heart, Alizo Alrich. She swore to him that he would have a better life than she, and she would give up her life if needed in order to keep that promise.

Esdarho and Alizo grew up absorbing their native language like sponges, speaking it to each other and their family whenever they could. Tzira was so proud, but warned them to only speak Amestrian outside. Esdarho and Alizo never quite understood the reasoning, but listened to their Mother nonetheless.

They would meet in the dead of night, swallowed up by the endless sands of the desert and protected by their God Ishvala. She would spend time with her family, and her children would play with their cousins and be themselves for a single night. Though her family still didn't believe in her marital choices, they loved her and her children all the same. Esdarho and Alizo became quick friends with their older and younger cousins, and they would sneak around in the dead of night to be together at least once a week.

When the war began to worsen, Tzira left for Kantel, where her family still resided, to beg them to leave and seek shelter along side her in Resembool.

Tzira never came back. She perished in the war she swore she would never bow to, but fire doesn't care that you have a family at home waiting for you, it just burns along with the seething hatred of a thousand soldiers, killing with blind eyes and naïve patriotism. Fire burns, and it'll burn you too if you get in the way.

Esdarho and Alizo never had the strength to keep a fire going in the winter after that. They never lit candles, they never attended campfires, and they never faced the heat of flames again. For every time they looked into the yellow and red lighting up the dark, they could only see the red of their mother's eyes as she screamed in agony.

Esdarho and Alizo held down their distaste at their mother's Amestrian funeral, forced to wait until they were alone to bear the cloaks of mourning red and sing their prayers for the dead. They swore from that moment on that they wouldn't let their mother's history die along with her. They would keep it alive, the way they couldn't for her.

After all, even though they couldn't protect her, who's to say they couldn't bring her back?

* * *

Edward yawned and stretched his arms over his head, bringing a series of cracks and pops from his bones. He sighed in relief and let his arms fall back to the comforter bundling up his legs. He closed his eyes and took a moment to bask in the morning light flooding through his window.

"Kaliméra aderfé, pós koimíthikes?" (Good morning brother, how did you sleep?) Edward smiled at the towering suit of armour sitting at his kitchen table, book in hand.

"San moró. Den koimíthika tóso kalá se lígo."(Like a baby, actually. Haven't slept that good in a while.)

Edward and Alphonse, who knew each other as Esdarho and Alizo, made a habit of speaking their native language whenever they were by themselves. They did this as a way to keep their mother alive in every way they could, and they did it so as to not forget who they were, as well.

"Aftó eínai kaló. Théleis proinó?" (That's good. Want breakfast?) Edward beamed at his brother who knew him so well.

"Fysiká, mikrós aderfós. Prépei na fortóso tous ydatánthrakes protoú do aftón ton maláka syntagmatárchi símera." (Of course, little brother. Need to load up on carbs before I see that asshole Colonel today.) Alphonse let out a tinny sigh as he set down his book, marking his place with a spare sheet of paper.

"O aderfé, ti tha káno mazí sou?" (Oh brother, what am I gonna do with you?) Edward sent him a toothy grin.

"Xéreis óti m'agapás!" (You know you love me!) He called back before dipping inside the dorm washroom to get ready for the day. He slid into the black leather he wore every day, followed by his tank top and black jacket, topping it all off with his trademark red jacket, the same jacket he wore the day his mother died. He brushed out the tangles of his platinum hair, before deftly braiding it back behind his head. When he left the bathroom, Alphonse had finished up with the pancakes he was making. Ed breathed in the sweet smell as he seated himself at the small round table, littered in research papers.

"Ékana to agapiméno sou. Xéro póso agapáte tis tiganítes." (I made your favorite. I know how much you love pancakes.) Ed grinned.

"Sas écho pei poté póso se agapó, Al?" (Have I ever told you how much I love you, Al?) Alphonse giggled.

"Tha boroúsate na to kánete pio sychná." (You could stand to do so more often.) Ed savoured the sweet breakfast as he went over what he had to do today. He knew he had a meeting with the Colonel (much to his dislike), and he had been thinking about going to the library afterwords. Maybe he could drop off Al on the way to HQ, and meet up with him after.

"Geia sou, pós sto drómo mas gia to grafeío, méneis píso sti vivliothíki enó eímai me ton syntagmatárchi. Tha exoikonomoúse chróno kai den tha chreiazótan na akoúseis otidípote chazó prágma pou eípe o syntagmatárchis símera. Tha se synantíso ekeí afoú teleióso." (Hey Al, how about on our way to the office, you stay behind at the library while I'm with the Colonel. It would save time and you wouldn't have to listen to whatever dumb thing the Colonel has to say today. I'll meet you there after I'm done.) Al looked as if he was considering it, then gladly obliged. Ed finished up his breakfast and rinsed the dish in the sink. He would wash it properly later. He tugged on his boots and was ready at the door.

"Ready, Al?" He asked in Amestrian, as they always did outside of the dorms.

"Sure thing, brother."

So then they set off. Al rambling on about new findings in his research, with Ed complaining about the Colonel as always. Before he knew it, he had to part ways with Alphonse and head on to headquarters. Ed grimaced as he went through a mental list of what the Colonel could possibly want from him.

He eventually found himself standing outside the double doors of Mustang's office. As per usual, he bypassed knocking and went straight to kicking the door in. Those inside were not startled, having gotten used to Edward's obnoxious ways long ago.

"Hello Edward." Greeted Hawkeye. "The Colonel has been expecting you, go on in."

With a nod, Ed barged into Mustang's inner office. The Colonel didn't look up from his paperwork, even with the loud banging of the door hitting the wall.

"Ah, Fullmetal. I beg you to be a little gentler on the doors, before I start taking repair costs out of your research budget." Mustang still stared down at his paperwork, scribbling his signature on page after page.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What'd you want me for." Ed plopped himself onto one of the leather couches in the room. Mustang then set his pen down and sat his head on his hands, intertwined beneath his chin.

"We have been assigned a new mission." Mustang declared. Ed raised a brow.

"We?" He questioned.

"Yes, we. The whole team will be coming along, myself included." Ed grimaced at the thought of working alongside the Colonel, but continued listening anyway. "We have been put in charge of creating a census for the Ishvalan slums." Ed felt the colour drain from his face. He and Al were well known around the Ishvalan slums. They would often visit and help out around the area. They had many friends there, who all knew of Ed and Al's Ishvalan descent. Problem was, Mustang and his team were clueless about the brother's heritage, and he liked it that way.

"T-The slums? Why would we be called there?" Ed tried his best to keep the uneasiness out of his voice.

"Beats me. Führer's orders. We must interview each household and find out their basic information, such as their income and the people in each household." Ed swallowed. How was he going to get through this without being recognized? How could he keep his secret safe?

"Why do you need me and Al to come along? Surely you can get it done with the rest of the team." Mustang's eyes narrowed.

"Like I said, Fullmetal. Führer's orders. You don't want to go against the Fürher, right, Fullmetal?" Ed swallowed the lump in his throat, but stayed silent. "That's what I thought. First thing tomorrow, Fullmetal. Dismissed." Ed left the office with a sinking pit in his stomach and sweat beading on his forehead. There was no way he was getting out of this

........ 

Hawkeye entered Mustang's office with a sense of suspicion and concern building in her chest.

"Sir, did the meeting go alright? Edward looked a bit... shaken." Mustang sighed, a thoughtful look on his face.

"There's something he's not telling us, Hawkeye. He's hiding something, and I'm going to find out what it is."

* * *

"Leaving, Al. We are so leaving!" Ed quickly threw his folded clothing into his suitcase, and gathered up his important files.   
"Brother, we can't just leave. They'll know something's up for sure if we do that." Alphonse reasoned, watching his brother scurry around the room. Ed chewed his lip nervously.   
"Well then, we'll tell them we had a family emergency or something! I don't care, as long as we get out!" Alphonse sighed wearily as he watched Ed clip his suitcase closed, clothes still peaking out the sides. "What are you doing? Get ready!" Al sat down on the edge of the bed, the frame creaking beneath his weight.   
"Ed, you know as well as I do that there's no escaping this. We knew the risks when we signed up." Ed frowned. "We might still be able to get out of this, but if we can't, we'll have to deal with it." Ed sighed heavily, sitting down beside Alphonse and burying his head in his hands.   
"Den boroún na xéroun, Al. Den boroún na máthoun." (They can't know, Al. They can't find out.) Al wrapped his metal arm around his brother and drew him close.   
"Tha eínai entáxei, aderfé. Tha to katalávoume." (It'll be okay, brother. We'll figure it out.) .

.... 

Ed held his glove in his flesh hand as he chewed his fingernails. He doesn't remember the last time he felt this nervous, this helpless, this, exposed. He sat on the train next to his brother, who looked as emotionless as ever. The rest of the team sat in booths all around him, eyeing him warily.   
"You doing okay there, chief?" Called Havoc from the right of Ed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."   
Something like that, Ed thought to himself.   
"Oh, uh- yeah I'm good." Ed assured him, though he gave Ed a look that told him he wasn't convinced.   
Ed tried desperately to keep his foot from tapping, to keep his hand out of his mouth, but there were so many different scenarios running through his mind that his surroundings had been blocked out almost completely. He was shaken out of his thoughts as the train rumbled into the station.   
"Alright, everyone. Remember your task. Havoc, Breda, and Falman to the north, Fuery and Hawkeye east, and Fullmetal and I will go west. Head out." Declared Mustang. Ed closed his eyes and swallowed. Of all people to be stuck with. The bastard? Ed begrudgingly got to his feet and followed the Colonel off of the train. All around him were rickety buildings and rusty shelters that only vaguely resembled houses. White haired children ran about, dressed in rags, and Ed couldn't help but remember his cousins he played with the same way, so many years ago. A clipboard with paperwork was shoved into his hand.   
"Fill out as much as you can, leave stars where the information in not applicable. Got it?" Edward grimaced but nodded. He followed Mustang to the first house, as he knocked gently on the door. A young woman with hair as white and eyes as red as his mother's answered the door. She shrunk into herself upon seeing the military blues that Mustang wore.   
"We haven't done anything wrong. Leave us." She spoke with a thick accent. A little piece of Ed broke inside when he realized how much fear these people carry every day. Fearing for their lives just because of their appearance.   
"No ma'am, we're only hear to ask you a few questions. Would that be alright?" The woman looked as if she were about to refuse, before slowly and hesitantly nodding. Ed droned out the rest of the conversation, filling in parts of the paper whenever he heard something important. The rest of the day went very similarly. They talked, he wrote. He was beginning to think he was home free when a small girl came running up to him.   
"Megálos aderfós! Megálos aderfós! Mou éleipses! Ti káneis edó símera?" (Big brother! Big brother! I missed you! What are you doing here today?) She beamed up at him, eyes ruby red. Mustang shot him a confused look. He felt his heart stop in his chest. He knelt down in front of her.   
"Edó káno se ólous merikés erotíseis. San kouíz. Den écho chróno na milíso tóra, pós tha gínei argótera?" (I'm here asking everyone a few questions. Like a quiz. I don't have time to talk right now, how about later?) She nodded giddily before running off to find her friends again. He felt Mustang's eyes burning holes in the back of his head. He took a deep breath through his nose as he stood up from the ground, brushing dust off of his knees.   
"What was that?" He asked, eyes narrowed.   
"What was what?" He responded, looking as innocent as he possibly could.   
"Don't play dumb, you spoke Ishvalan to that girl." Ed shifted uncomfortably.   
"Yeah, so what? I picked up a second language. I read a lot of books, Mustang." His eyes narrowed even further, shooting Ed a look that screamed 'we'll talk about this later'.   
The rest of their time in the slums was spent in uncomfortable silence. It continued, even on the train back to HQ. Ed almost wanted Mustang to call him short just so he could escape the quiet. Neither one spoke a word, even as they treaded the road back to Central Command. Once they were all huddled into the office, Mustang closed both doors and swung around to stare into Ed's eyes.   
"What was that, Fullmetal?" His voice was low, rumbling with a certain threatening edge that shook Ed to the bone. The whole team went quiet at their superior's words. Ed swallowed.   
"I don't know what you're talking about." He responded, his voice calmed and level.   
"Don't give me that, you spoke Ishvalan to that girl. She spoke like she knew you. So tell me, Fullmetal. What was that?" All eyes were now on him. Ed closed his eyes and wished he could will himself away from this situation. Alphonse shifted uncomfortably on his seat on the couch next to Ed. Ed sighed.   
"I told you, Mustang. I read a lot of books. Some of the research I need is written in Ishvalan, it's a good language to know." Mustang gave off an aura of doubt.   
"Oh yeah? Why'd she sound like she knew you then?" Ed sank a little in his seat, arms still crossed defiantly across his chest.   
"I met her on a mission once." Mustang dropped down into his chair behind his desk, rubbing his eyes.   
"I don't buy that for a second, Fullmetal." Ed stayed silent, feeling eyes boring into him from every angle.   
"Ful-Edward," Mustang spoke, voice softened. "Are you and Al Ishvalan?" Ed let his eyes slip closed with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer. "Yeah, so what if we are? No big deal!" Mustang paled as a bead of sweat rolled down his furrowed brow. He looked as if he might throw up any second. Hawkeye had her eyes closed, one hand over her mouth. Falman, Fuery, Havoc and Breda, just stared into space. "See, this is why I didn't want to tell you! Nothing has changed! We're still the same! Quit freaking out!" Mustang just shook his head, still in his hands. "Your mother, Fullmetal. She didn't die of aerugonian flu, did she?" Ed sank into himself at the mention of his mother, but stayed silent. Mustang heaved a heavy sigh, breath filled with stress and regret. "I'm sorry." He whispered. Edward cocked a brow. "... What?" He pondered aloud. Mustang lifted his head from his hands, and looked at Ed with watery eyes. "I'm sorry, Edward. Or is that even really your name?" Ed blinked owlishly at the man. He had never expected this. He had never expected his stuck-up superior to break down in front of him, let alone apologize. Ed quickly became very uncomfortable. "W-What? No, uh- it's okay, what're you apologizing for?" Ed stuttered, waving his arms in front of him. Mustang frowned even more. "How could you not hate me? How could you not hate me for what I did?" Mustang shook his head slowly, letting tears fall silently down his face, something Ed never thought he'd see. Ed sighed through his nose. "Min afísete to mísos na tholósei tin krísi sas. Oi kakés apofáseis den simaínoun kakoús anthrópous." Ed responded, in his mother language which he had never spoken so openly before. Everyone in the office looked at him in confusion. "That's what my mother used to tell me when I was young. It means 'Do not let hatred cloud your judgement, bad decisions do not mean bad people'." Mustang let out a sob at this, crying into his palms. "She used to tell me all the time, tell me how many of the soldiers fighting in the war were just misguided. She would tell me how those soldiers didn't want to kill any more than the Ishvalans wanted to die." Hawkeye had now begun to cry as well, albeit silently. "If I'm honest with you Mustang, I did hate you at first. I wanted to hate you so bad. I wanted to be angry so that I didn't have to be sad anymore. But when I met you, you weren't the man I thought you to be. You weren't the evil killing machine I had made you out to be in my head. I stopped hating you the day I met you, that was also the day I realized my mother was right." Mustang sniffed and wiped at his red-rimmed eyes. "How could you forgive me so easily. I killed her. I killed your mother along with your family. Why don't you hate me?" He sobbed. Ed frowned and sighed. "In my eyes, you harbour no more guilt that a gun. The bullet may be the cause of someone's death, but it is the person behind the trigger who is held responsible. You were just a tool in that war, Mustang. You were no different than a gun. The people I really hate are the ones who gave the orders." The room became silent for a few minutes, aside from the sniffling coming from Hawkeye and Mustang, and even a little from an emotional Fuery. Mustang then promptly stood from behind his desk, crouching in front of Ed. Ed stared into his blood shot eyes, and gave him a soft smile. Before Ed could mouth a word of protest, he was suddenly swallowed up between two strong arms, holding him close. "You're a wise man, Edward. A better man than I'll ever be. Thank you." Edward smiled into the embrace, and before he knew it, he and Al were covered in weepy soldiers squeezing the life out of them. Ed closed his eyes, and he realized he had never before been so at peace. "Esdarho." He muttered into Mustang's shoulder. "Hm?" Mustang questioned. Ed chuckled. "My name. It's Esdarho."


End file.
